


no catch, no beat

by likecharity



Category: Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-25
Updated: 2008-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There is no time for reflection between countries.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	no catch, no beat

**Author's Note:**

> I DIDN'T REALLY WRITE THIS. I'M PRETTY SURE IT'S A FIGMENT OF YOUR IMAGINATION. D:

"I don't even think he really _likes_ you," says Skandar, fidgeting, fingers tapping against his lower lip in feigned nonchalance.

"What would you know?" says Will, laughing as he buttons up his shirt, facing the wall.

"Just an observation," Skandar replies from behind him, and Will turns to see him pulling his jumper over his head.

"You can keep your observations to yourself, then," he says, checking his reflection in the mirror, head tilted as he smoothes down his hair. "Are you ready?"

It's the night of the premiere, and Will's heart thuds sickly in his chest, his nerves jangling tightly under his skin. It has nothing to do with Ben. It has nothing to do with Skandar. These are premiere nerves, and he remembers them well.

 

 

"You and him look like you're wearing the same suit," says Skandar, plucking Will's champagne glass from his hand and taking a long sip before handing it back. "Just so you know."

Will says nothing; rolls his eyes. He turns the glass instinctively, taking his own sip from the other side.

"Is that a couple thing?" Skandar goes on, wrinkling his nose. "Or is it just a coincidence that you both share the same fashion sense?"

Will shrugs.

"Is it a _gay_ thing?" Skandar presses, and that's it.

Will grits his teeth; goes off to find someone else to talk to.

 

 

"I think you should tell everybody," says Skandar, his voice ringing out in the quiet stillness of the hotel room.

Will rolls over and studies the dark, indistinct shape of Skandar in the bed across from his own. He's too tired for this, this slow burn of gentle nagging insults, but he answers anyway. "What?"

"You know," Skandar tells him, pausing to yawn noisily. His voice takes on a mocking tone when it comes back. "Come out of the closet."

"We can't do that," snorts Will, turning onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. "I'd never get work again."

Skandar laughs, quick and sharp, sarcastic. "Because that's not cynical or anything."

"It's _true_ ," Will insists, anger surging suddenly through him. "God. You're so naϊve."

Skandar just laughs again. "Whatever, Will."

 

 

"How's Mexico?" says Skandar when Will answers the phone.

He's literally on his way out the door, and didn't bother to check the caller ID in his haste so the sound of Skandar's voice makes him drop his hotel key.

"Hot," he replies, crouching down and fumbling on the floor, holding the door open with his knee. "How are your exams?"

"Boring," Skandar says non-committally.

A pause. Will locates the key, straightens up. Waits.

"Missing Ben?"

Will laughs, shuts the door behind him and leans against it. "It's only been a few days," he says. "I'm not _that_ pathetic."

"News to me!" Skandar sniggers on the other end of the line.

"Listen," says Will impatiently, "I have to go."

"Why, what's today?"

"Press conference," Will tells him. "What's today for you?"

"Maths. Non-calculator."

"Good luck."

Another pause.

"You too."

 

 

From Mexico it's Tokyo, and Will is reunited with Ben. They sit on the hotel room floor and start on the mini bar approximately three hours before they probably should. Will's phone rings halfway through his second drink.

"Skandar," he says, peering at the screen.

Ben rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "That kid," he says, swigging from his own bottle. " _Jesus._ "

He rubs at his temple as though Skandar's a migraine, and Will flips open his phone with his thumb. He crosses the room and climbs onto the bed; settles back.

"How'd Maths go?"

"I've had," says Skandar, "four other exams since then. That's counting Religious Education, which you shouldn't _really_ , but for the sake of the point--"

"Okay, okay," says Will, and Ben chuckles at this, putting his bottle down and joining Will on the bed. "How did they all go?"

Ben shifts closer, toying with Will's belt.

"Like exams do," Skandar sighs. "Is Ben there?"

"Yes," says Will, slowly, as Ben unhooks his belt and undoes the button of his trousers. "Why, do you want to talk to him?"

"No. Just wondered."

Ben pulls at the zip, parting the teeth of it one by one. Will feels lightheaded, drunk. Dizzy. Ben's hand sneaks inside, pushes past boxers, finds his cock.

"What's Tokyo like?" asks Skandar, and Will grows hard against Ben's hot palm, his breath catching in his throat.

"Big. Busy," Will says. He meets Ben's eyes and manages, "Kind of crazy. I think you'd like it here."

Ben raises an eyebrow, curls his fingers around Will's cock.

The conversation has lasted exactly one minute and twenty-seven seconds, his phone tells him, as he hangs up immediately and tosses it aside. He spreads his legs. Ben tightens his grip; slides.

In Highbury, Skandar says Will's name twice before the dialling tone kicks in. He makes a face; puts the phone down.

 

 

"Fuck," hisses Ben through gritted teeth. "Oh, _fuck._ "

Will swirls his tongue around the head of Ben's cock, feeling Ben's fingers rake through his hair. He takes him in deep, throat aching, lips tight, and Ben starts clawing at his shoulders, his hips bucking.

"Fuckfuckfuck."

It's all he ever says during sex. Never elaborates. Never says Will's name. It's always just _fuck_ , muttered or groaned or spat out, his voice raw and desperate. Will steadies his fist at the base; sucks.

Ben chokes out the word as he comes, violently, his entire body taut like a bowstring as he spills into Will's mouth. Will swallows smoothly and looks up.

"You are--" says Ben, pausing to catch his breath, "--so good at that."

He runs his fingers through Will's hair affectionately, and Will's phone buzzes, ignored, on the bedside table beside them.

 

 

"You always ring first thing in the morning," Will observes.

He is in Melbourne, and he is running five minutes behind schedule for the premiere. He isn't even _dressed_ yet. Georgie is wandering around the hotel room eating biscuits and making a mess, and Ben is trying to get rid of her, and they are being very loud.

"What?" says Skandar. "I thought it was about five there."

"It is," Will says, relocating to the corridor where things are quieter. "I meant for you."

"Will, we've got to get a move on!" Ben shouts from inside, and Georgie comes running out, brushing crumbs from her dress.

"Talk to you later," Will says immediately, and Skandar mumbles something that he doesn't quite catch before hanging up.

"There are better reasons for being late than this," says Ben when Will enters the room again. "Why does he ring you all the time?"

"We're best friends," Will says, yanking his t-shirt over his head.

Ben gives him a disbelieving look. "It seems so _needy_."

"Needy?" Will repeats, rummaging through his washbag for some deodorant. "I don't think you know Skandar at all. I should introduce you."

"Shut up," laughs Ben. "We don't have time for this."

He is very, very right.

 

 

"Did you miss us?" asks Anna, grinning widely.

They're meeting up once again. They're in Prague. Skandar is sullen and tired, and hasn't even said 'hello' yet.

"Of course," Will grins back, embracing her. It takes the time that their hug lasts for Skandar to disappear.

 

 

"Is he okay?" Will asks.

It is later, and things have not improved. Skandar has spoken to him, at least, but it's the same as it's always been -- he's rude and sulky, making little jibes at his and Ben's relationship. He thought maybe it'd been long enough now for him to have gotten over it, but apparently not.

"He was fine on the way here," says Anna with a shrug. "It might be better if you actually paid him some attention, considering you've been glued to Ben's side all morning."

Will nods, distracted slightly as Ben wanders into the room. And then he registers her words. "Wait, what? Why does that matter?"

But they're wanted for group photos, and Anna doesn't get a chance to explain.

 

 

"He's jealous," she says, later, in a quiet moment between press conference and premiere.

Will blinks at her.

She purses her lips for a moment, regarding him with a slightly concerned expression across her face. "You didn't know?"

He shakes his head dumbly.

"Oh, then I think I have some more bad news," says Anna, apologetically, but with a sly smile. "I think you might be blind."

 

 

Will had a crush on Skandar, actually, a few years ago. He was still coming to terms with being gay, so he was petrified of the entire situation and far too scared to actually do anything about it. It calmed down after a while, pretty much went away. It was just one of those things.

But this news? Is...very interesting.

 

 

"Wait wait wait," says Ben, hands out in front of him. He lowers them slowly to his sides, frowning. "Let me get this straight. Are you _actually_ asking permission to cheat on me?"

Will frowns, too, and says nothing. _Is_ that what he's asking?

"Only you, William Moseley," chuckles Ben, taking a sip of his drink.

Will laughs nervously, but still says nothing.

"I'm not sure," says Ben, after a moment of consideration, "that this is _quite_ how we're supposed to have the 'where is this relationship going?' talk."

"No," Will agrees. "It's probably not."

There is a rather long silence, and then Ben tilts his head and lifts his glass. Will isn't really sure if he's supposed to, but he takes that as his blessing.

 

 

"Hang on a second," says Skandar, looking puzzled as he glances around the room. "I can't see Ben anywhere. Is it actually possible for you two to be in the same city but not in the same room?"

Will clamps his lips shut to avoid the start of an argument. He tilts his head on one side. "Funny," he says finally, and Skandar actually looks somewhat proud.

"I was just curious, I hadn't witnessed any public displays of affection between the two of you for a while," he shrugs. "Or do you save those for when there's cameras around? You should probably be more careful."

"When are you going to get tired of this?"

"Of what?"

"Of saying this stuff about me and Ben," Will says patiently, and somewhat vaguely, not really expecting Skandar to get it.

"You were stroking his hair earlier," retorts Skandar. "I'm just trying to help out, seeing as you so badly want to keep this thing a secret."

 _Fuck this,_ thinks Will, turning on his heel and walking away. Perhaps it's not really worth it.

 

 

"Are you _sure_ it's jealousy?" Will hisses to Anna as they get on the boat, a few minutes ahead of everybody else.

They are in London. They are on home ground. (Well, water.) This is the premiere they've all been waiting for, but Will's nervousness is more obligation than anything else by this point.

"Seriously, Will, blind," Anna says, tiredly. She dabs at her lipgloss with the tip of her thumb. "And it's okay. He'll get over it eventually."

Her gaze jerks suddenly to somewhere behind him, and he turns, seeing Skandar and Ben approaching in the distance.

"What if I don't want him to?" he asks quickly, quietly, and Anna's eyes dart back to him, alarmed.

"You mean, what if you want to be with him instead of with Ben?"

Will frowns, watching as Skandar and Ben get closer. "No..."

 

 

He has too much to drink. It doesn't _make_ it happen, but it helps to push him just that little bit further. To be bolder, to make things clearer, and things like that. Things like kissing Skandar against the wall before they even make it into their hotel room.

And right now, they should be asleep, because they have to get an early plane to Paris tomorrow morning and it's already later than it was supposed to be.

But they are not asleep.

They are lying in Will's hotel bed, limbs tangled, ties undone, mouths sliding together, hands firmly pressed against hot skin.

"This is awful, by the way," Will says, pulling away from Skandar to thumb the collar of his red and white checked shirt. "I meant to say so in Prague. You should probably take it off immediately."

"Was that a pick-up line?" Skandar asks, smiling lazily as he begins to unbutton. And it is wonderful, because it is comfortable, in the should-have-happened-years-ago kind of way.

"You're in my bed," Will tells him. "Have I not already picked you up?"

Skandar wrinkles his nose in thought, but gives up quickly when Will's fingers join his in ridding him of his shirt.

"I was going to ask if Ben was okay with this," Skandar says a moment later, "but then I realised that I don't really care."

All Will can do is laugh and set to work on removing Skandar's jeans.

 

 

He wakes up to a hand around his morning erection, and in his tired daze, thinks that it belongs to Ben. He nuzzles closer to the warm, slender body that is curled against him under the covers, murmuring pleas, but then his eyes open and he sees freckles, and he jolts in something like surprise, his mouth falling open.

Skandar takes advantage, tongue sliding in sleepily, and presses against him, his own erection evident against Will's thigh.

"When do we have to get up?" Will asks hoarsely, attempting to locate a clock.

"Somewhere between five and ten minutes," Skandar replies, climbing on top of him. He spits into his hand; wraps his fist around both of their cocks together. Will groans. "I think that should probably be enough time."

Skandar's hand moves slickly, a little clumsily, his brow furrowed and his lip bitten in concentration as he sets about bringing them off together. Will comes first, mostly from watching him, and he splashes hot onto his stomach, clutching at the bedsheet. Skandar leans down, pulling the rest of his orgasm from him before focusing on arriving at his own.

"Good morning," he murmurs hotly against Will's neck, a smile in his voice as his fist jerks frantically down between their legs.

 

 

There is no time for reflection between countries.

Will has been aware of this, jetting from city to city for more than a month now, but now is the time that it really seems to _matter_. Because he sits next to Ben on the plane, and he hasn't had time for a shower (only a quick wipe-down with a washcloth) and he can still smell Skandar on himself, and even though Ben is genial as ever -- letting him have the window seat, offering him sections of newspaper and so on -- something still feels incredibly _wrong_.

 

 

He is beginning to get somewhat sick of watching the movie, although he'll never say so out loud. He knows it far too well by now, and even if this was his first viewing he would find it difficult to concentrate on the screen, because he is sitting between Ben and Skandar.

And Ben's hand is currently sliding onto his thigh.

Will turns to look at him, but Ben's eyes are focused on the screen, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Will licks his lips anxiously, and glances down to his lap where Ben's hand is edging closer to his crotch.

He shakes his head slightly, looking back up to the screen and trying to pay attention, and that's when another hand touches him. A slightly smaller one, creeping gently onto his other thigh, not nearly as bold as Ben's. His head snaps round to Skandar, who meets his eyes briefly but turns away again, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

He feels Ben's fingers slipping across the crotch of his trousers, now, and he looks down, watching them, seeing them move ever closer to Skandar's stationary hand. The fingers tease at the zip of his trousers, flicking it, for just long enough to make Will's heart leap into his throat as he shoots frantic looks at Ben next to him. And then they sneak across to his other thigh, and Skandar chooses that exact moment to spread out his hand and

\-- that's when they touch.

Both pull their hands back immediately, and Will's head jerks back and forth. Skandar's expression is unreadable in the darkness, and his eyes are back on the cinema screen, untelling. Ben, however, is cracking up, bent almost double in his seat, his fist pressed against his mouth to muffle his laughter (inappropriate, really, during the night raid scene).

The rest of the film passes without event.

 

 

The rest of the _night_ though -- well.

 

 

In the hotel lift, they are silent, standing in a row, facing straight ahead.

Their rooms are on the top floor; there's a long way to go.

It's when they've just passed the third floor that Skandar turns, grabbing Will forcefully by the waist and pushing him against the wall. He waits for a moment after this outburst, his face so close that Will can barely focus on it, his lips barely a centimetre away.

They breathe; kiss. It's slow, lazy almost, tongues slipping together, lips wet.

Ben watches.

When they part for a moment, Will reaches out, and Ben closes in easily, tall and steady and unmoving against them as their lips meet again.

A sudden, loud _ding_ indicates their arrival at their floor, the doors shift noisily open. Ben stumbles back. Will is still holding the keycard for the bedroom he's going to be sharing with Skandar. He offers it, his hand trembling slightly.

Ben presses his fingers to his temples, rubbing. "This isn't really happening," he says, in disbelief, laughing.

But this time, he is very, very wrong.

He hesitates -- so long, in fact, that the lift's doors begin to slide shut again and Skandar has to press the button repeatedly to keep them open -- but then suddenly, decisively, he takes the keycard from Will's hand and marches off down the corridor, Will and Skandar in tow.

Will is hard from the moment they enter the room, as Skandar pushes him against the nearest wall again and Ben mutters " _Fuck_ ," like they've already started.

 

 

And it's a good long while before Will stops -- _makes_ himself stop -- and catches his breath, urging himself to take a look; think.

"No, no," scolds Ben, from his left, cupping his face and pulling him in again to continue their kiss. And Will knows why he does it. He does it because they _can't_ take a step back and think about this. Not now, anyway. It's a bit late for that.

Skandar is on his right, dishevelled, his shirt and tie undone and his jeans unbuttoned, his jacket, socks and shoes long forgotten. His fingers are trailing down Will's stomach. He watches Ben kissing Will; waits his turn.

And when he gets it, Will can feel the jealousy there, can feel the competition rising through Skandar's body as they press against each other on the bed. Immediately, it feels like a _bad_ thing, something that'll cause problems, make this whole thing end in an argument instead of sex. He doesn't know how wrong he is.

It's not long before the three of them are naked, naked like it's _normal_ for them to be this way together. Because ever since Will first met Ben, he's been between them, and it's only now that it's literal -- sprawled here naked on a bed with Ben on one side and Skandar on the other, both of them fighting for dominance, both wanting to touch the same parts of his body at the same time.

Ben has his fist around Will's cock, and he's sliding it up and down with the self-confident ease of having done this many times before. He doesn't really need to try, not with this anyway. The only thing he has to try to do is not to let Skandar get to him. The tight, rough heat of his palm feels _good_ , and Will moans into Skandar's mouth as if he's the one who needs thanking.

When Skandar breaks off, he just stares into Will's eyes, and the intensity there is almost frightening. Ben grips tighter, twists his wrist; jerks faster. Spurred on.

When Skandar actually pulls Ben's hand away and replaces it with his own, Will thinks he might come right then and there. Ben's lips quirk. He hides his irritation.

"I feel like we're destroying your innocence, here, Skandar," he says wryly, dragging a hand back through his hair, which immediately falls back in front of his eyes.

Skandar snorts; shoots back, "What innocence?"

They bicker briefly, back and forth, Skandar's fingers curled all the while around Will's aching cock. They seem intent on sharing him like this, ignoring their own erections which are pressing slick and hard against Will's thighs, but he wants Skandar's cock down his throat and Ben fucking him, and one thing's for certain -- he'll get it before the night is over.

 

 

"There are condoms in my washbag," says Will, breathlessly. He gestures; groans. Skandar's still tugging at his cock, and he's got two fingers inside him, spit-slick but still burning all the way in and all the way out again, just the way Will likes it.

Ben raises an eyebrow, and doesn't move any further.

"Front pocket of my suitcase," Will adds.

"Am I your slave?"

"You're the boyfriend," smirks Skandar, not taking his eyes off Will as he speaks.

Ben chuckles and shakes his head, but gets up anyway as Will knew he would, locating the washbag quickly and returning with a condom and a small bottle of lube.

"Figured we shouldn't involve you," he says, directing the words to Skandar and holding up the single condom. "You don't want to lose your virginity in a situation like this."

He's not actually speaking unkindly, but Skandar predictably takes offence, pulling away from Will and frowning. "What makes you think I'm still a virgin?"

Ben just laughs, shrugs. Acts like it's no big deal to him anyway, like Skandar's stupid for getting all riled up by a casual comment. It's the way Ben handles these things, Will knows. And all it does is anger Skandar further.

Ben tilts his head to Will as he tears open the condom packet. "You ready?"

 

 

Will's head is between Skandar's legs before anything else, his lips pursed at the shiny flushed head of Skandar's cock. Skandar's hip buck up almost of their own accord, and he pushes in at the same time as Ben does, behind, stretching and sliding.

"Fuck," says Ben, sweaty hands steadied on Will's hips, and pushes deeper. He's a little too quick, and Will whimpers around Skandar's cock in his mouth, tensing, clutching at the bedsheets.

He finds Skandar's hand, squeezes it. Skandar squeezes back, and Will relaxes a little. When Ben rocks forward, filling him completely, Will hears a sharp intake of breath, an _oh, fuck,_ and then Ben falls forward, covering him with his body.

A hand curves round Will's shoulder, and Ben's hair tickles his back and neck. Ben's cock is still inside him for a moment, thick and so hard, and then when it _moves_ , a sudden sharp thrust out and in again, Will gasps, releasing Skandar's cock from his mouth with his breath hitching, stuttering.

Ben rests down against his back, a hot cheek pressing to his skin, his hips swaying smoothly now as he fucks Will, and Will moves with him, his head bowed down, his lower lip dragging against Skandar's slick shaft. Skandar wraps his thumb and finger around the base, eases back in, and Will takes it, cheeks hollowed. The low, awed groan he receives in return sends a jolt straight to his groin, and Ben seems to read his mind, hand slipping beneath him to grasp his cock almost instantly, quelling the aching heat.

 

 

It's easy, then, between them on his hands and knees, being _shared_. Ben in his arse and Skandar in his mouth, Ben's fingers around his cock and Skandar's threaded through his hair.

It's when he looks up that he gets thrown off, sees Skandar's eyes focused behind him. Focused on Ben, for the first time. And that's when he comes, messy, over Ben's hand and spilling onto the sheets beneath him. He almost sobs, forgets to breathe, nearly chokes on Skandar's cock still filling his mouth, but catches himself and comes back. Skandar strokes his hair, wipes sweaty strands from his forehead.

It's a warning, maybe, of some kind, because a second later Skandar is shuddering, pulsing against his tongue, and his mouth fills, bitter, as Skandar comes. He's mostly silent as he orgasms, just taking in tiny sharp breaths of air, and Will watches his throat work and flutter through it until it's over and he's left panting, his mouth slack. Will swallows haltingly; Ben quickens his pace.

It seems a while before Ben comes (though Will knows that it always takes him quite some time), and Will is slumped across the bed, head resting on Skandar's thigh now, breathing in little gasps. He clenches around Ben's cock, hears the resulting groaned _fuck_ from behind him, clutches at Skandar's thigh when Ben starts fucking him harder.

He can't see either of them when Ben does come, all he registers is a rush of heat and Ben's body covering his own, and a hand flying out and grabbing Skandar's hip. Ben goes limp, gasping and gulping, lips wet against his shoulder, and Skandar tries to squirm out from under them both, clearly crushed and much too hot.

"Well," says Ben, his voice a little high, " _fuck._ "

 

 

They half-dress, Will and Skandar in underwear and pajama trousers, Ben in select parts of his wrinkled suit. It's not awkward, not a quick cover-up of indignity, it's just a necessity. They do have a flight back to England early tomorrow morning, after all.

When Will's brain starts working properly again, Ben is already at the door, and he stammers blearily at him, confused. What's the etiquette? He has no idea.

"What -- aren't you --?" is the only thing he can come up with. Skandar flops onto his own bed, indifferent.

Ben presses a finger to his lips. "No regrets," he says, smiling around the cliché, and slips back to his own hotel room.  



End file.
